Barron sat still for a few seconds, but then his head began to nod. “You’re right, Andi. For the next month, we’re more or less on the same vein…and if the enemy doesn’t attack, not in that month, you’re probably going to gain support. I agree that taking the matter bit by bit is the way to go. I can’t promise you that if the enemy does not come in that time, I will be on your side.” He stopped. But I don’t think you expect that.”

  “No…I don’t. But right now, I’m willing to settle for a month of being together…and we’ll see what happens after that. Okay?”

  Barron shook his head, and the reached out for Andi. “It’s a deal.” He pulled her close to him and he hugged her hard. He knew they had only agreed on a month of peace, but that seemed a long time to him just then. And, despite the fact that he was against Andi’s position—then at least—part of him knew he might get to it. If the enemy came in the next month, if they drove his fleet back from Striker…would he still be against striking back in any way?

  He couldn’t say…and he probably wouldn’t know until that moment, if it came. But he was glad for a month of freedom, for 30 days of a united front.

  He enjoyed it for about two minutes…then the buzzer on his desk went off, and he found out his 30 days had been cut down to one.

  * * *

  “Alright…we’re almost ready to start removing the construct. Bear in mind that this is connected to him in fifty different ways…and if we miss even one of them, his life is in danger.” The senior surgeon, Jordan, spoke as his hands moved all around Stockton. He was nervous, edgy…and despite his willingness to do the operation, he was now second-guessing himself. He’d done two of the previous attempts, and he was 0-2 so far. But he’d studied the procedure for years now since his last attempt, and he’d make definite progress. He was far from sure he could do it successfully, but he knew he could take the procedure farther than he had before. He might have turned down someone with a normal device, but Stockton’s was at least deactivated…and the chance to work on the only such device had overcome his caution.

  “I think we should go over every connection one more time…just to be sure. This thing looks simple, but in fact, it’s the most complicated device I’ve ever seen, and I don’t want to overlook anything.” The second doctor, junior only to the chief surgeon, spoke, his voice carrying both legitimate warnings, and also some hesitancy. He sounded much like the chief surgeon, and the head of the operation thought for a moment about stopping. But that wasn’t a possibility. They’d gone too far, and there was as much likelihood that Stockton would die if they stopped as there was if they continued.

  “I agree.” The head of surgery wasn’t sure that his agreement was anything more than buying another hour before he had to lead the crew in actually removing the strange device. But he couldn’t find anything else to say. “Let’s start down at the bottom. The lower connections all seem to be separated…or deactivated. Do you agree?”

  The second surgeon—subordinate in a procedure for the first time in at least ten years—reached down and took a moment longer, but then he replied simply, “Agreed.”

  “Okay…” The senior physician moved his hands slowly, feeling his way around. He worked his way slowly up. “Lower connective devices appear removed as well. There is still a connection…but as far as I can tell, it is just for blood flow.”

  His co-surgeon, number two, but also one of the few doctors that had worked on a patient, trying to remove a Collar—with no more success than the senior surgeon—was silent for a moment. Then he responded, “I can’t see anything…but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something else running through the one connection. I mean besides blood.”

  The senior surgeon looked back at his cohort for a moment. “Look…we can say that there are unexpected aspects to all of this, which there are. But all we can do is the best we can.”

  The second doctor nodded after a moment. Then he said simply, “I can’t see anything else.”

  “Very well…” The lead surgeon reached up a little higher. But the klaxon sounded before he was able to say anything else. He told himself it could be a hundred things, only one of which meant a major enemy attack. But he knew what it was…and it only increased the already crushing pressure on the whole team. “Alright,” he said, “even if that is warning of an enemy attack, it is at least two systems away. We’ll be finished with the surgery by the time anything can reach here…so just stay focused, and let’s get this done.

  * * *

  Barron raced out of the room, followed closely by Andi Lafarge. They’d enjoyed a very short time together—very short—before the alert had pulled them out to the bridge.

  “What is it?” He asked, but he knew what it was.

  “We don’t know for sure, sir. Some kind of enemy activity.”

  Barron ran across the open area toward his chair, gesturing for Andi to take the chair next to his as he passed it. His eyes were already fixed on the screen, as his hands moved across the controls, bringing the image up.

  He’d known what it was before…but he’d fought against it, imagined other things. But the first glance at the screen told him all he needed to know. The enemy fleet was coming…and it was a large force. The month he had discussed with Atara, the time he had considered before, was gone. The main enemy fleet was two jumps away, possibly even one jump just then…and there wasn’t any doubt about it. It was a major attack force.

  He stared for a moment, and then he looked back at Andi. She was still…but just as sure as he was. It was the main enemy invasion…and it wasn’t coming in a month, or two weeks even. It was coming now. And it would be through the jump gate and present in twenty-four to forty-eight hours, depending on the assortment of vessels the enemy placed in their vanguard.

  “That’s the main attack…there’s no question.”

  Barron was still looking at Andi as he spoke, and her eyes told him she agreed with him completely. A second later, her voice re-emphasized it, saying one word. “Yes.”

  “I want all the data we can get before those scout ships have to depart. And I mean, I want the newest vessels to stay as long as they possibly can.” Barron knew just what he was asking for, especially with the crews he’d picked out for the forward ships. Some of them would probably stay too long, even by design, deciding their survival was secondary to gathering the greatest intel possible.

  Barron hated himself for it, but he was hoping the same thing. He’d come a long way into accepting death among the legions following him, and even if he wasn’t ready to join Andi—and probably many of the others—on their route toward a true fight to the finish, he’d become far more bloodthirsty and violent than the man he’d been before. Casualty levels that once would have laid him out were now just the results of a mild skirmish, and the biggest battles were almost unimaginable nightmares.

  “Yes, Admiral…they have been so ordered, but we will repeat, and add your request.”

  Barron was silent for a moment. He felt a momentary urge to tell the aide not to send the message…but in the end, he allowed it to go through, only speaking once it was done. “Send word to all officers…I want everybody here in two hours for a meeting.” He knew the term “all officers” wasn’t specific enough, but he also knew his aides knew who he meant.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And track those incoming forces…I want updates every hour, wherever I am.” He got up, only a moment after sitting.

  “Understood, sir. Every hour…wherever you are.”

  Barron nodded, and then he looked at Andi. He’d been at odds with her for months now, but he knew he could count on her…certainly in the current situation. “Will you join us in the meeting, Andi?” His voice had lowered, not enough to make his words indistinguishable to the others present, but sufficient to make it clear he was talking to Andi.

  “Yes…of course.” She sprang to her feet, even as he walked past her, heading toward his office again. She was right behind him, and she followed him back into his office.

  Chapter Twelve

  Forward Base Striker

  Vasa Denaris System

  Year 329 AC (After the Cataclysm)

  Barron sat at the table, his mind still reeling, despite almost twelve hours since the enemy was first discovered. Or at least since word had reached the station…Barron knew that even at full speed, that took a number of hours.

  He’d had a large meeting, nearly thirty people, but now he had retained just eight. The others had been sent back to their ships, to prepare for the fight they all knew would be the toughest yet. He had to let most of the others go soon, too. They were, for the most part, the highest rankers in the fleet…but he had one thing to discuss with them first.

  He had excused himself three or four times to check on Stockton, and to his amazement, the surgery was still underway. That formed a record for survival, at least, as Stockton was still alive considerably longer than anyone else had lasted. But the doctors had projected a time of eight to nine hours, and they were well beyond that now. Barron had planned all along to tell the key people about Stockton’s…situation…but he’d hoped to at least have a finished status, whatever it was. He didn’t have anything like that, just the fact that Stockton was in surgery—which would be news to everyone there, including Andi—and he had no real idea how things were going.

  “I wanted to keep you all here to discuss one other thing.” He had intended to just blurt it out, but now he found himself having trouble. He sat still for perhaps twenty seconds, not very long in one sense, but it seemed like it. Then, he said it. “General Stockton…he wanted to try and have his implant removed. He came to me, and I approved it. I assembled the team, and they’re working on it as we speak.”

  Barron didn’t know how the officers surrounding him would react. He’d have bet that the Hegemony personnel, and the Alliance leader, would take a lesser view. But he had a number of other officers who might object.

  “Now? You mean he is in surgery now?” Clint Winters spoke first, sounding surprised, but not exactly committal, either way.

  “Yes…right now. I mean, it started before we got the word on the enemy, of course. I would have put it off if I’d known.”

  “We’ve known about the enemy for almost twelve hours…it’s been going on longer than that?”

  “Yes, Clint…about thirteen and a half hours so far. I probably shouldn’t have done it on my own anyway, but I definitely wouldn’t have had I known this was going to happen. I mean, six months of nothing, and the surgery starts a couple hours before the enemy is contacted. There are some things you can figure…and others that just happen.”

  The room was silent for a moment, but Barron took the lack of anyone erupting at him as a good sign.

  “I understand why you did it, Tyler.” The voice was different, and Barron recognized it instantly. “And I understand why you couldn’t tell any of us.” Andi sat a few seats down the table from Tyler, and she looked at him. “Aside from the question of what to do, generally, I realize that you consider yourself Stockton’s mentor…rightfully so. And I expect it was his insistence that drove you to it.”

  Barron looked out, first at Andi, and then at the rest of those present. Chronos and Akella, along with the Imperator, looked on, but though they knew Stockton, they didn’t really expect to be notified of anything, and they were more or less just there. The rest of those present, all Confederation people, had various levels of ability to get upset, but generally, they all looked like they at least understood Barron’s intentions.

  “Thank you—all of you. I was afraid there would be some…more trouble. I just believed, in the end, it was Stockton’s decision…and I can assure you that it was his. I didn’t really want to proceed with it, but I felt that he had the right to make it.” A short pause. “Of course, if I’d known the enemy attack was coming…”

  “There was no way to know that, Tyler.” It was Clint Winters, who had beaten out Atara by the briefest amount. “But your timing was almost perfect. And the surgery has been going on a long time.”

  “Yes, it has.” Barron looked down for a moment, and then he glanced back over the table. “I just wanted all of you to know about it. I assume the surgery will be done before the enemy attack arrives, and I will send Stockton out of here before the fight begins.” Assuming he survives was not said, but everyone present heard it nevertheless.

  “So, now that that’s done, I suppose there is nothing left to do but send you back to your ships. I considered whether to position myself here or on Dauntless, but I decided to remain here. The station isn’t as strong as it was, but I’d bet we’re tougher than the enemy thinks.” He turned toward Atara. “You’re in command of Dauntless again of course, and the entire section of the fleet she leads. You did as good a job as anybody could have last time, and I am absolutely sure you will do it again.”

  Atara nodded her head. She looked like she wanted to question Barron’s decision, but she didn’t.

  “Okay, so thank you again for understanding my decision regarding Admiral Stockton…and I will see that any updates are immediately sent out. We don’t need this to be generally known, of course…especially not to the pilots.” He stared for a moment at Reg, who paused for a second, but then nodded her own approval. “Very well…return to your ships. With any luck, we will all be here in a few days.” He said it, but he didn’t believe it…and he didn’t think anyone else did either.

  He watched the leaders shuffle out, until only Andi remained. Then he looked over at her, suddenly devoid of whatever assurance he had possessed. “Andi…I hope I’m right. I hope that we can hold again, drive the enemy back.” He paused for a moment. “But if we can’t…well, I’m not ready to sign on to your deal yet.” He paused. “But if we lose the fight, if we look like we’re going to lose the fight…I want you to promise me something.”

  She looked across the room at him. “Of course, Tyler…what?”

  “I want you to promise me, if I fall here, if the enemy is too strong…I want you to escape. I want you to try your way. I’m not ready to give up, but I have decided if it comes to a choice between being conquered or striking back any way we can…I’m with you.”

  Andi looked back, clearly troubled by Tyler’s statement. But she just answered him, clearly feeling that it wasn’t enough, but not knowing what else to do. “Yes, Tyler. I will do that.” She was clearly unsettled at his tone…but she didn’t say anything else.

  * * *

  “Alright, pull it now!” The lead surgeon on the team cried out, even as his hands were buried inside Stockton. He and his team, more than a dozen in all, had encountered one thing after another. To be honest, he was stunned that Stockton was still alive…and he knew that it wasn’t by much. He’d progressed to removing what he believed were the last of the implant mostly because he couldn’t imagine his patient would survive much longer…not because he was sure he had cleared away all of the obstacles.

  “Alright…I’m pulling now.” The second surgeon sounded just as concerned, and the two of them pulled as hard as they could. They both knew there were components of the device that they still didn’t understand, but both of them in agreement, they had used all the time they had.

  Maybe even gone beyond it.

  “Remember…when we pull the thing out, he’s gonna bleed…badly. We’ve got 20 units of blood ready, so the two of you on that, think of nothing else.”

  “We got it.”

  The two surgeons pulled as hard as they could…and slowly, the implant began to move. For an instant, the movement was slight, and then, almost as one, it came forth.

  And it was out.

  The blood poured, almost unstoppable at first, and the two attendants started pouring in replacements two at a time. Even with the insertables, they seemed to be losing ground at first. The two primary doctors put the implant down, and they immediately began working to seal off the damaged arteries. For a minute, it didn’t look like they were accomplishing anything, but then, the blood flow diminished. It was a little at first, but the two professionals, as exhausted as they were, continued to work, and the blood loss gradually slowed. There were at least two dozen places pouring out blood at the start, but within a few minutes, fewer than half a dozen remained, and the flow of replacement blood pouring in exceeded that flowing out.

  Still, the doctors worked, shutting more bleeding wounds until none were left…at least none that were still bleeding profusely. The first patch jobs were temporary, and now the doctors went back to them, working steadily on each one. By the time they had finished, they had pumped eight liters of blood into Stockton…but finally, they stopped.

  Their patient had been through hell, that much was true, and it was far from sure he would survive. The surgery had been more difficult than either had expected, and they had encountered one problem after another. But their patient was still alive…and the implant was gone. Whether any bits remained, whether Stockton would survive the surgery, was still anyone’s guess.

  But they had come farther than anyone had yet…and their patient was still alive. Whether he was brain damaged, whether his survival would last more than a few minutes, they didn’t know. But he was alive, longer than anyone else had survived…and that was something.

  * * *

  “Thank you, Doctor…there is no way to know what will happen, but your ability to bring him through is noteworthy. Congratulations.” Barron was edgy, worried that Stockton would never regain consciousness. He regretted his decision to allow the surgery, at least in some ways, and he hoped, with all his heart that his friend pulled through. Stockton had become the first to survive the removal of the enemy pod, and even if he died later, he would remain that. But Barron only cared about speaking with his friend, seeing him up and around. He didn’t have any odds on that happening, but he guessed they were less than fifty percent.